


freaking out is my "okay"

by nosecoffee



Series: kids are still depressed when you dress them up [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, Connor Lives, Connor and Alana are besties, Connor has no impulse control, Connor is reckless af, Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, Face time, Fire extinguishers, Humour, I swear this is funny, Illness, M/M, Molotov Cocktails, New Conspiracy: Connor didn't finish the milk, Pining, Protective older brother Connor, Super villains and such are completely normal, The Amazing Asshole Jared Kleinman, Unapologetic references to Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Vague sick-fic, bad descriptions of law firms and bridges, because we need this, bridges, but not really, chainsaws, everyone in town is bored with them at this point, pining connor, some violence, spider-man au, superhero au, the crime rate in their town is so high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 18:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: Getting caught up in a hostage situation at the bank, or a liquor store hold-up, or a super villain's evil plot that falls just short of being totally evil - and fails, comically, as the entire town watches on - is not exactly uncommon where Connor Murphy is from.(Granted, the liquor store hold-up event never would have happened if he hadn't decided using his fake ID that night was a good idea.) (Granted, the police wouldn't have been able to do anything about it if he hadn't hit the robber over the head with a bottle of Passion Pop.) (Granted, it didn't actually turn out to be Passion Pop.)Or, the Spider-Man AU Prequel no one needed





	freaking out is my "okay"

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'More Than Survive' from Be More Chill
> 
> AS PROMISED, HERE'S ANOTHER SPIDER-MAN AU!!!!
> 
> I hope it's not shit. I really tried, guys, I really did.

Getting caught up in a hostage situation at the bank, or a liquor store hold-up, or a super villain's evil plot that falls just short of being totally evil - and fails, comically, as the entire town watches on - is not exactly uncommon where Connor Murphy is from.

(Granted, the liquor store hold-up event never would have happened if he hadn't decided using his fake ID that night was a good idea.) (Granted, the police wouldn't have been able to do anything about it if he hadn't hit the robber over the head with a bottle of Passion Pop.) (Granted, it didn't actually turn out to be Passion Pop.) (Granted, he had to pay five hundred dollars to replace that champagne, and his parents weren't impressed, but the store didn't get robbed, and no one died, so, at least, there's that.)

In fact, if you count the weird electricity dude currently stalking the halls of his high school, threatening, somehow, over the intercom, to electrocute anyone he encounters, this would be the seventeenth time Connor's ever been remotely involved in an event that others would label traumatic and he would label _"Another Fucking Day In My Life"._

That's almost one event per year he's been alive. Fitting, right?

_Right._

Connor's huddled under a table in the chemistry lab, phone open to FaceTime, while Evan reads out the ingredients list for a Molotov cocktail from the computer lab across the school, voice at a whisper.

Alana leans over, and corrects something that Evan says, and Connor grimaces at the ingredients gathered in his lap.

"Are you sure about this?" Evan murmurs, face vaguely obscured in the shadow the table he's hiding under casts. Connor's just glad the electricity dude hasn't stepped into any classrooms, yet.

_Yet_ being the key word, in this scenario. He has to work fast, if he wants to do this before the police arrive.

"Not in the least." Connor quips, and Evan gives him something short of a smile. His teeth shine in the faint light from the glowing computers.

"How do you even know it'll stop him?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder at Jared, who's playing _Temple Run 2,_ and cursing whenever he dies. Apparently, Jared could give less shits on whether he lives or dies, in this situation.

Connor's just glad that Zoe's away doing a concert with the rest of her Jazz Band. If she was here, he wouldn't be bothered with the Molotov - he'd be running through the halls to get to her, and protect her with his goddamn life.

He's tempted to do the same with Evan. He won't though. Too aware of his own Hero Complex to do something as attention-drawing as that. He'll settle for throwing a Molotov cocktail at some dude who's just short of being a school shooter.

Well, at least, now, he's bonding with his friends over a fucking lockdown.

"It might not," Connor admits, handing the phone to Alana, "but I've got to try."

"You'll die." Evan states, bluntly, and flushes at Connor's raised eyebrow. It's cute as all hell. "If it doesn't work, I mean."

"Whatever." Connor shrugs.

_"Connor."_ Alana scolds, punching him in the shoulder.

"Alright, alright." Connor holds his hands up in surrender, grinning at them. If they think that he doesn't really mind about it, they'll let him go through with it. "If it doesn't work, I'll be a martyr, and give people enough time to escape while he fucking electrocutes me to death. You can have the police on speed-dial and call them the minute I throw it."

"Connor, they've already called the police." Jared says, sounding far away. And disinterested.

You'd think for the kid who accidentally ran down the amateur super villain that gave everyone's pets rabies, in junior year, he'd be a little more enthused with the current happenings. Apparently, anything vaguely abnormal has lost its novelty, for Jared.

"Right." Connor agrees with a grimace.

"Are you serious about this?" Evan is frowning, and lowers his voice. "I'm sure that there's someone else in that classroom who'd take the chance to throw a Molotov cocktail at an electricity-powered maniac, who looks like he just stepped off the pages of an early issue of _Watchmen."_

"And give up the chance to be known as that kid who threw a Molotov cocktail at an electricity-powered maniac, who looks like he just stepped off the pages of an early issue of _Watchmen?"_ He shakes his head, and looks to Alana, who's talking in soothing whispers to Dayna P, who's only been at the school for a week, and is in tears. Connor takes back the phone and continues to grin at Evan, because the last thing he needs is for Evan to be sent spiralling into a panic, right now. "I think not."

"Just be careful, okay?" Evan's voice is dead serious. Connor nods, giving him one of the most earnest looks to ever grace his features.

"Okay." He promises. Then, he shifts, awkwardly, and looks down to the ingredients on the floor, right in front of him. "Now, tell me how to make this thing."

Evan grins.

~

By the end of it all, Connor thinks the shock blanket is a bit much. The police question him over his actions, and give him that talk about leaving these things to the authorities instead of taking the law into his own hands.

Connor's heard it countless of times before. The moment he sees Evan, however, he's rushing past the police, through the crowd, to get to him. Jared's right behind him, and when Evan catches sight of him, he's running just as fast, albeit, with more _'sorry's_ and _'excuse me's._

Connor hugs him as tight as he can manage, shock blanket sliding off his shoulders. Evan's hand is scrunched in the hair at the back of his head. "Thank god, you're okay." He whispers, other arm wrapped tight around Connor's shoulders. Connor curls his hands in the back of Evan's blue t-shirt. "I was so scared."

"I'm fine, couldn't have done it without you." Connor whispers back and sees Jared smirking at him, over Evan's shoulder, before he looks back down at his phone.

"Guys, I beat my high score!" Jared exclaims a few moments later. Evan laughs and pulls away, and the moment is broken. That's fine. Connor will live with what he can get.

~

"Oh, hey, Connor!" He turns, looking to wherever Alana's voice had sounded from.

Over by the potted plants by the elevator, apparently, because, there she stands, in all her professionally-dressed intern glory. Her grey IKEA messenger bag is overflowing with documents and papers and her glasses are somewhat askew, only brought to attention by how she's wriggling her nose, trying to get them to drop back into place.

Alana beams at him, and he returns a soft smile.

"What are you doing here?" She inquires, bustling over to him. Connor plays with the strap of his own messenger bag, rattier and aged more than hers, with pins and permanent marker doodles on it.

"Oh," he replies, shortly, his other hand in the pocket of his worn, sun-bleached jacket, thumbing the home button of his vaguely-smashed phone. "I'm here to see my dad."

"Your dad works here?" Alana looks enthralled at the news. Connor feels like he might have mentioned it, at some point, during one of the boring homeroom sessions, but, apparently, not.

"Yeah." He tries not to sound as loathing as he usually does when he speaks about his dad, but if her expression says anything, it says that she's not buying it.

"Do you know your way around?" Alana asks, almost cautiously. Granted, he would be cautious too, if he'd helped someone construct a Molotov cocktail during a lockdown that was threatening everyone in the school's lives, and then watched them nearly die, and get suspended.

_Whatever._

"Not really; I try to stay away from here." Connor rifles through his messenger bag and pulls out leftovers from the night before. A vegetarian, gluten free spaghetti bolognese. Connor didn't ask what it was made of, and neither did Zoe, or his father, so he's really not sure what it is. He stuffs it back into his bag, uncaring of the state it'll be in when it reaches his father. "But my mom said that he was staying late, at work, and I should bring him some dinner."

"Do you want me to help you find his office?" She gives her watch - that's right, Alana Beck is so sophisticated, she wears a _watch_ \- a cursory glance and seems to decide that she can spare a minute, helping Connor find his father in this mess of a building.

He sighs. "...that'd be great, thanks."

"So, what does your dad do?" They fall into step, beside each other, strolling towards the elevator. Connor doesn't question how Alana knows which level his dads office is on.

"He's a corporate lawyer." He replies as it dings, and opens, and five muttering old men with briefcases and scowls push past the two teenagers.

"Obviously." Alana snorts, stepping into the elevator and giving the panel of numbers a calculating look. "I meant - what cases does he take on? Is he a defendant?"

"Fuck if I know." She frowns at this answer, and jams her thumb against the glowing 14 button. "I try not to pay attention when he talks about work."

"Right." A moment of silence falls over them as the elevator doors close and it begins to rise, "Well, my mom’s said that this would be a great opportunity for me."

"I'm sure they're right." Connor agrees. "Just don't actually get a job here. I hear they're the worst."

"Sure." And she smiles at him, the way she did right before she'd pulled open the chemistry lab door to let him out into the hallway, two weeks ago.

The silence that comes next is much more companionable, and when the elevator dings, Connor jumps. He was that out of it.

They walk down the hallway, giving each name in each door a searching look, until they find the only open one, and Larry Murphy looks up from his computer.

"Connor." He says, almost a sigh, giving both teenagers a puzzled look.

"Dad." Connor replies, in kind, the same tone of voice bubbling up his throat. He pulls the Tupperware container out of his bag and places it on the only clear place on Larry's desk. "Mom made me the delivery boy for your dinner, since you won't be gracing us with your presence at the dinner table, tonight."

"And yet I'm still being graced by your ever-present sarcasm." Larry says, leaning back in his chair, as Connor searches for the fork he's sure he picked up.

"What can I say?" Connor says, from the depths of his bag, before emerging with a fork, and a mockingly-toothy smile. "It's a package deal."

Larry takes the fork and the Tupperware container of ick, and sets them down on his closed MacBook. He gestures to Alana, still hovering in the doorway. "Who's this?"

"Alana Beck, sir." She replies, brightly and strides into the room, hand outstretched, "I've been interning on level eight."

"Of course." Larry shakes her hand, and releases it, nodding to the two of them. "You and Connor...?"

"God, dad, no." Connor scoffs and Alana shoots him a grateful look. He's well aware about how she feels about Zoe, and, besides that, he doesn't want his dad thinking the big coming out that he did was a phase. That'd be worst than the actual coming out, itself. "She just helped me find your office."

"I see." Larry gets up from his desk, popping the microwave-safe button on the Tupperware container, and moving across the office to the microwave situated there. (Of fucking course Larry has a microwave here. What next? A kettle in the desk drawer? A toaster behind the curtains?) "Why did your mother send you, and not Zoe? Did she go soft and free you from house arrest?"

"You could say that." Connor shrugs and tugs, gently, on Alana's wrist, giving her a clear cue that it was time to leave. "Bye, dad."

No such reply sounds and Connor very nearly slams the door shut on his way out.

"That was curt." Alana comments as they make their way back down the hallway.

"That was my father." Connor replies.

"I'm sorry." And she sounds it.

"Don't be." He bumps their shoulders together (any girl who can take a fire extinguisher off the wall and throw it to him with very little effort on her part is good in his books).

"What'd he mean by 'house arrest'?" Alana inquires, taking a turn that he follows, inspecting names on doors.

"Remember, two weeks ago, when I threw that Molotov cocktail at the electricity-powered-super-villain-wannabe?" He says.

"Yeah?" Alana replies.

"My parents didn't take kindly to me doing that." Connor tells her, matter-of-factly, no word of a lie. "Or the ensuing fire-extinguisher-battle that ended with me knocking said electricity-powered-super-villain-wannabe out with said fire extinguisher."

She snorts and he knows she's thinking _only in this town would that be a semi-normal thing to say._ "Well, if it means anything, I thought it was pretty brave of you." He thinks it's real sweet of her.

"Thanks, Alana." Connor says.

A brief quiet intrudes their conversation as they blink at their surroundings.

"I think we took a wrong turn," Alana murmurs, turning on the spot. There are two doors in the corridor. Connor doesn't even remember how they got here. "This doesn't look familiar, at all."

"Is that an exit?" Connor whispers, and moves to the green-painted door.

"No. I don't think so..." she says, behind him. He tries the doorknob and it twists, all the way around. Connor grins.

"Well, it's open, so maybe we should take a look..." he begins to open the door, and then feels Alana tugging sharply at his wrist.

"Connor, we could get arrested!" She hisses. "What if there's documents or-"

He pulls away, despite her protests and pushes open the door. The light switch is immediately to his left, and he flicks it on. Connor's face lights up. "Oh, sweet, confiscated items."

"Connor!" Alana whisper-yells.

"Shush, Alana." He says, and moves into the room, crowded with crates and shelves. "You can wait outside, if you want, but I'm taking a look."

Connor moves through the stacks of shelves, and all the plastic-wrapped, police-tape-lined items. He feels Alana behind him, and knows he's won.

"This is exactly how every teen slasher film starts." Alana mumbles, worrying at the strap of her messenger bag.

"No, this is different." Connor disagrees. "This isn't an abandoned warehouse, and I'm not your creepy boyfriend, who's weirdly into having sex on top of graves."

"What teen slasher films have you been watching?" She asks, a nervous giggle evident in her tone.

"Bad ones." He replies.

“That’s some _Jennifer’s Body_ shit.” Alana murmurs, bumping his shoulder with her own, despite the height difference.

“That's a _horrible_ movie!” Connor exclaims and Alana laughs.

“I _know.”_ He watches her diverge from his path, looking at a badly-wrapped something. "Take a look at this brooch." She says, waving him over, and reaching into the bag. She pulls out the brooch, revealing it to be shaped like a spider, shiny and metallic. Connor furrows his eyebrows and snatches it from her grasp, afraid of fingerprint, and probably only making it worse.

"Alana, that's not-" a sharp pain to his pinky makes him cut short and he hears mechanical whirring at the brooch spider reels back from the small, bleeding cut that it inflicted. "Ow, fuck, it's not a brooch."

"That spider just bit you?" Alana peers over his shoulder at it, and Connor really wants it out of his hand, so he reaches for the bag, so he can stuff it back inside. He's starting to think this was a bad idea, after all.

"Yeah." He says. He puts it back in the bag, placing the bag back on the shelf.

"It didn't look real." Alana comments. "It looked mechanical."

"It wasn't real, but it still bit me."

"Oh."

"Fuck, we've gotta go before someone finds us in here."

"Finally, some rational thought, on your part. Let's go, we're gonna get caught."

~

**Connor:** d'you think Evan'd like to go snooping through confiscated items with me?

**Alana:** Like, as a date?

**Connor:** sure.

**Alana:** Evan wouldn't even step foot in the building if you told him that was what you planned to do.

~

He and Alana agree not to talk about it. There isn't much to talk about, in the first place. They go their separate ways, they go home, and they don't talk about it.

Connor sleeps restlessly; dreams of running through the shelves, the room getting deeper, losing Alana between some stacks, the stinging as the mechanical spider brooch bit him over and over and over.

Connor wakes up with a fever, and the sweats, and his mom is instantly sympathetic, agreeing to let him stay home, as Zoe hovers in the doorway like the sister from Ferris Bueller.

"He's faking." She insists to Cynthia, and Cynthia shakes her head, wildly.

"How exactly do you explain his symptoms? He's burning up. He's sweating." Connor feels dizzy, and his head is killing him. It feels like some sick amplified migraine, projected everywhere through this body. Like hardcore growing pains. Cynthia shoos Zoe out of the room. "Let him sleep, Zoe. Go to school. You'll be late."

Cynthia tells Connor that she'll be running errands all day, but to call if he needs anything, as Zoe pulls out of the driveway. Connor doesn't know how he knows how fast she's going, but she's already speeding. He worries.

Cynthia kisses him on the forehead as she leaves, and his skin and hair tingles where she touched him. His hair rises from the flattened state that her hand her left it in, and his skin burns where her lips touched.

She leaves and Connor goes back to sleep.

~

When he wakes, it's worse.

The music from her car - on the other side of the house, in the driveway, on volume setting 15 - is too loud. Much too loud, in his ears.

It continues to get worse. He opens his eyes, a sticky something slowing the process as he does, and it aches to move so much as a finger.

Connor rolls over, and hears his bones click with clarity and the way Cynthia's flats slap against the cobblestone of their driveway, and flinches at how hard she slams the car door, and shuts his eyes tight against the much-too-bright light shining through the curtain.

His much-too-bright alarm clock tells him that it's two pm, and Connor squints at the white thing sliding from the top of the alarm clock to the top of his chest of drawers. It's a web - a spiderweb - thick and much whiter than an actual web.

Connor sits up and squints around the room and processes that everything in the room is covered in thick white spiderwebs. And - _well._

Connor stands up so fast that he nearly falls down it's so dizzying.

His entire room, covered in spiderwebs? This has got to be another dream. Got to be.

He hears Cynthia turn the key in the lock of the front door.

This is real, he thinks and immediately rips through the spiderwebs covering the door to open it as quickly as he can. She _cannot_ see this weird-ass shit. Connor all-but jumps down the stairs and races to the laundry with speed he didn't know he had, grabbing the cobwebber and climbing the stairs again before she can even open the door.

Connor closes the door behind him and begins to twirl all the webs onto the stick, getting it off the walls, off the floor, off the window, and by the time Cynthia's climbing the stairs, his room is clean of spiderwebs, and he's back in bed, pretending to sleep.

His heart is racing. How on _Earth_ did he do that so fast? Connor doesn't know. Is a little scared, to be honest.

His door creaks open and he squeezes his eyes shut.

~

After Cynthia leaves - for Pilates, this time - Connor sits on his bed and stares at his hands.

This has got to be the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him.

Forget Molotov cocktails in Biology, forget Passion Pop over the head in a liquor store hold-up - getting bitten by a mechanical spider brooch and then developing webs that shoot out of his wrists is weird beyond comparison.

Connor contemplates calling Evan. But what would he say?

_"Hey, Ev, look, could you Google deadly spider brooches, 'cause it sounds nuts, but I'm either developing a weird sickness, or hallucinating, or dying, or all three, because weird things keep happening."_

Un-fucking-likely.

First thing he does is jump. He hits his head on the ceiling and spends the next five minutes lying on his bed, and wondering if he just gave himself a concussion. Apparently, he can jump much higher than he could before. That's unnerving, to say the least.

Connor takes some painkillers. Then he gets on a chair and inspects the dent in the ceiling his head made. His hand sticks to the plaster. It's scary. Connor laughs nervously and reaches up with his other hand to detach it.

The other one sticks, too.

So, there he is, some sick asshole, standing on a chair in the middle of his bedroom, both hands on the ceiling.

Connor lifts himself up, feeling very unsafe, to kneel on the ceiling. His knees stick, too. He's laughing a lot, now.

This is absolutely unreal. Connor slowly pulls at one hand and feels it dislodge. Apparently, if he wishes to crawl across surfaces that are not the floor, his body will allow it, now. Because, you know, fuck gravity.

He crawls across the ceiling to the wall and carefully transfers to the wall, crawling down until he can safely pull away and tumble onto his bed.

Connor lies down and looks up at the ceiling where he was only moments ago. This has got to be a vivid hallucination…He tosses one arm over his eyes and hears a sound like something smacking into his wardrobe.

He takes his arm away and sees a new spiderweb. What the _fuck._ Connor frowns at his hand, that has a few strands of web on it. Connor flicks his hand and watches spiderwebs shoot out of his wrist. It splatters on his carpet.

As if the wall crawling, jumping, super speed shit wasn't enough.

He flicks his hand again, and with his _New And Improved Reflexes™,_ grabs the end of the strand of web as it goes whipping across his bedroom. His head rams into his wardrobe.

Yeah. Connor really needs to talk to someone about this.

~

**Connor:** Alana? i need your help.

**Alana:** With what? Where were you, today? We had a prac in biology.

**Connor:** got mysteriously sick. i'll make up for the prac next week.

**Connor:** listen, could you meet me at Á La Mode, at five, tonight?

**Alana:** Why?

**Connor:** something weird is happening and i seriously need your help.

**Alana:** Okay.

~

**Evan:** Alana said you were sick. Does that mean you can't come over for tacos on Tuesday?

**Connor:** do you really think i'd miss taco tuesday because my nose was running?

**Evan:** That doesn't answer my question. And, also, I think you would. You know how my mom is with sickness.

**Connor:** don't sweat it, Ev. I'll be back on my feet for tacos - just you wait.

**Evan:** Okay. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye.

**Connor:** bye!

~

Connor thinks it's real inconvenient that some chainsaw-wielding maniac is holding up the old mill bridge. Right when he needs to get across it.

Honestly, out of all the nights to stop traffic on the old mill bridge, he picks this one? Rude and inconsiderate.

Connor honks his horn. That starts up a round of bitter and annoyed adults wanting to get home honking as well.  
Discount Leatherface, as Connor's dubbed the chainsaw wielding maniac, revs his chainsaw. It grates at Connor's ears.

He kinda wants to test out his weird wrist-web power things on the chainsaw dude so that he can get to Á La Mode. Hears the gravel under the chainsaw wielding maniac's boot as he turns.

Connor's had enough of this.

He opens his car door and steps out. "Hey!" He shouts, and it's too loud, even to his own ears. Discount Leatherface turns to him.

Connor gulps. There's no Molotov cocktail, no snarky remark to offer to Evan. No Evan (thank god; he'd cry if Evan was anywhere near here). He's on his own, this time.

What will Evan think if he dies?

_"Ah, well, that was Connor; always running into danger. And, in this case, running into a chainsaw."_

Connor shudders at the idea, and shakes the thought away. "I have a meeting in a few minutes and I'm gonna be late, if you continue being a jackass on a bridge!"

Discount Leatherface revs his chainsaw again and starts running towards Connor.

Connor swears and jumps about a foot in the air - no joke - landing on top of his car. This stops the chainsaw dude in his tracks.

Then he runs towards the support beams, chainsaw outstretched.

Connor knows immediately what he's going to do.

He doesn't think.

He jumps from the car, legs extended to kick. He gets Discount Leatherface in the face, dislodging his dollar store mask, a bit, and knocking him off his feet.

Connor barely survives the act itself, falling over the edge of the bridge. He has no time to scream while his instincts kick in and a web comes shooting out of his veins, attaching to the bottom of the bridge and going taut as gravity continues to pull him down.

He hears the crack as his wrist dislocates, and cries out in pain.

Connor can still hear the chainsaw, can hear Discount Leatherface's pained moans, because, according to the blood on Connor's shoe, and the angle from which Connor kicked him, he kicked him in the teeth.

He can't stop. The guy isn't going to stop, because he's obviously trying to bring the bridge down. Connor pulls himself up the strand of web attached to the bottom of the bridge and hopes that the powers he used in his bedroom will work here and that he won't fall to his death.

Connor pulls himself back over the ledge to find Discount Leatherface standing, again, and actually cutting through a support beam. People have started screaming and running off the other end of the bridge to escape. There are people trapped, though.

Connor webs Discount Leatherface's hand to the support beam and runs for the middle of the bridge.

According to where he can hear the chainsaw, and the way the bridge is groaning beneath his feet, Discount Leatherface didn't think much of his web-slinging skills, and broke free easily. Connor starts getting people out of their cars, telling them to run for land, knowing full well that his car's going to go down with the bridge, should Discount Leatherface succeed.

He thinks he's got everyone when he hears a familiar voice yell, "Connor!" He twists in place to see Alana, trapped between a car and what looks to be her Vespa.

Connor looks back to the chainsaw guy and sees him steadily making progress with the destruction of the bridge. It lurches, and so do Connor and Alana. She cries out in pain.

Connor looks down to his wrist - and feels the bones sliding back into place. That's creepy, but he'll live with it.

"Connor! You've got to get off the bridge!" Alana says to him, once he reaches her. The seat of her scooter is pressing her into the door of the Toyota Corolla beside it. She has tears on her face.

"I'm not leaving without you!" He says and hopes that he has super strength or something, attempting to shift the car.

"What are you doing?" She screams at him as the bridge gives another lurch. There's not much time left.

"Trying to get you out!" She wraps a hand around his arm and wrenches him away from the car.

"It's too late for me, Connor!" Alana yells and he pulls away, not willing to let her die.

"No, it's not!" He insists and gives another push.

The car slips to the side as the bridge's supports on the right side give out. Alana slides to her knees, gripping her ribs and gasping.

Discount Leatherface is laughing in the distance.

Connor kneels beside Alana. The bridge is about to go down, he can hear the support beams splintering.

There's no time to run. He pulls her to her feet and looks her dead in the eye. "Hold onto me, and don't let go." Connor says, and feels the bridge give way.

Alana wraps her arms around his shoulders and screams as their feet leave the ground, and Connor webs a branch of a tree, off the side of the ravine, it jerks them off the bridge as it falls and they swing over air.

His wrist twinges in phantom pain of the dislocation from not too long ago. He grimaces.

Alana's still screaming as they touch down, and he releases her into the grass, cutting his way out of the web that gave him rope burn. Web burn? Whatever.

She's looking at him with wide eyes. She's stopped screaming.

Connor looks down at the ravine and sees the remnants of the bridge. Discount Leatherface is nowhere in sight, so hopefully he went down with it.

Connor goes to his knees beside Alana. "How badly are you hurt?" He asks, and she sits up, properly.

Alana licks her lips, and adjusts her glasses, and says, "It took me three years to save up for that Vespa."  
Connor laughs. "I'll buy you a new one."

He's glad she didn't ask about the webs. He's not sure what he would've told her.

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos, and hmu on Tumblr @nose-coffee if you wanna chat or something.
> 
> Some other notes: if you're interested in soulmate AU's, healthy sibling relationships, and improving mental health in teens, please do check out HamiltonTrash's SunBurns Bright series. It's actually really great, and she deserves a lot of recognition.
> 
> Again, thanks!


End file.
